


Stages of Surviving

by Demi_Fae



Series: Whumptober 2020 [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, there should be a tag for relationships but they hate each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demi_Fae/pseuds/Demi_Fae
Summary: Pain. Death. Despair. Insanity. Darkness. Revenge.It swirled around him like an angry snowstorm.All of them, the other would feel like he himself had.-Day 8: "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned |Isolation
Series: Whumptober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930612
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Stages of Surviving

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm posting day 8 before 7 because 7 is being annoying and I won't be able to finish it tonight

The pain came back first. 

The searing agony of a lightsaber cutting through his flesh, the stench of his own burning body burned his nose. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire then chilled with ice and burnt again in the span of seconds. He couldn’t feel the ground underneath his cheek, just the sensation of a grater slowly scraping layers off of his face. Moving hurt like nothing else he had ever felt and yet he forced himself to anyway, to drink and eat and stay alive. 

He couldn’t even scream as he realized he couldn’t feel his legs, taken away from him as they were. 

Yet they didn’t exist anymore he swore he could feel them dragging behind him, every rock they were pulled over sending a sharp spike through his entire body. Eventually he did find them, rotting on a pile of garbage, insects and rodents feasting on his flesh. 

He screamed again as he created new legs for himself, later, became a nightmare to survive. 

Death came for him many times those first few weeks. 

It was a near- constant companion. He would fall out of consciousness suddenly, chills wracking his body, and he would fight tooth and nail to hang onto his life. Their visits tapered off as he grew stronger and survived with a snarl of his face. They couldn’t have him, not yet, not before he finished what he wanted. 

Other days he felt weak and didn’t move for anything. He almost wished it would take him. The pain outgrew his will and he wouldn’t have lifted a finger if it meant staying alive for a single moment more. Those were the mornings he was almost surprised to awaken. 

Eventually even death left him alone to the rats. 

That was when the Others started to claw at him. 

They whispered unknowable words to him at night, screeching in his ears during the day. They showed him visions of his brothers, enemies, and master, visions that made no sense of the past and the future and everything in between. They taunted him all day and night, not a moment was he left in peace. 

Their words echoed in his ears and brain no matter how hard he ignored them. His worst fears were thrown at him nearly every second. Scratches started appearing on his limbs, bruises that he had no recollection of receiving. The visions cackled and swiped at him again. Fingers around his throat and viscera decorated his horns as he bit and snarled at the wretched abominations of the Dark Side and his own twisted mind. 

There was no Light here. 

No heat or warmth that it brought with. Even the fires he constructed someohow chilled him to the bone. He couldn’t wrap the Light around him as disconnected as he was from it, so instead he stoked the Dark. The voices cackled as he gave in and yet he pushed harder. 

Every emotion he felt fueled the flames. He poured all of his rage, hate, and pain into it and screamed into the night as it grew hotter and hotter. Eventually the fire within grew warm enough to burn the voices at the stake and chase his chills away. 

Then he was finally, truly alone, in blessed silence. 

Yet that too ate away at him and in his weakest moments he nearly wished for the Others to come back so he would have a voice to hear other than his own. Nearly. The days he felt like giving in, giving up his struggle, he remembered why he was fighting so hard. What for. 

The flash of a saber, the pain of the separation of his limbs from his body. A braid and tanned cloth. 

He wanted nothing more than to rip him apart like the other had done to him, tear him to pieces and cackle as the beasts feasted on the other’s flesh. The burning desire only made the flames in his heart grow taller and sharpened his mind until he focused on nothing other than the one who had caused all of this. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, years he assumed. Possibly decades. It didn’t matter. What did were the stages in which he had survived. 

Pain. Death. Despair. Insanity. Darkness. Revenge. 

It swirled around him like an angry snowstorm. 

All of them, the other would feel like he himself had. 

He would cause pain like nothing else to his enemy. 

He would make the other wish for death like he had so long ago. 

There would be nothing but despair in the other’s heart as he finally held them to the end of his saber and ran it through their heart. 

The other would fall prey to his own mind and not come out, not become more powerful than it like he himself had. 

There would be Darkness in their heart, battling the Light and splitting their mind in half and causing unimaginable pain. 

He would get his revenge. 

His hatred was the only thing keeping him alive now. 

Yellow eyes glinted in the darkness. 

“Kenobi,” Maul growled. 

And he started to plan. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it again: This is my favorite style to write in
> 
> You can yell at me on tumblr at [rynae-reblogs](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rynae-reblogs)


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